Lost at Sea
by CharryWotter
Summary: At the same time that Shawn is kidnapped, Lassiter and Juliet are sent out to find a dumping grounds in the Pacific Ocean. When Shawn escapes and a storm hits, how will they all stay alive? No ships but friendship! :) Lots of Shawn whump and soon to come Lassiter/Shawn friendship! (I, sadly, do not own Psych or any of the characters)
1. Captured

This story takes place around the middle of Psych…

Enjoy!

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Out on the Pacific Ocean, floating in a little boat with his best (and only) friend, you'd think Carlton Lassiter would be completely at peace. But he had a job to do, a job that had to be done no matter what—which created a slight problem, given the fact that he was lost at sea with a storm approaching.

But someone else was approaching as well. Lassiter rubbed his eyes. Could it be? Yes.

Approaching the boat in a raft was Lassiter's biggest irritation—psychic detective Shawn Spencer.

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 **Four Days Earlier**

"Shawn, for the last time, you're obviously missing something!" Henry Spencer's voice rang throughout his house, the sound drowning out the hissing of steak on the barbeque.

Shawn silently cursed. When had he ever thought going to his father's house would be pleasurable? Normally Gus would at least soften the criticism, but he was out on a business trip—a week long business trip! Shawn had only gone to Henry's house to have some company, but it had turned out to be a mistake.

Interrupting his father's rant, Shawn yelled out, "Fine! You win!" and stormed out of the house, hopping on his motorcycle.

Inside the house, Henry sighed. He had only been trying to help Shawn with his police case—something about multiple murders and some dropping grounds—but it looked like his "psychic" son wouldn't be the one to solve it. The last time Shawn had left in such a rage, he hadn't shown up again for years.

"I've lost him again," Henry muttered.

Shawn, however, had no intention of leaving Santa Barbara. He had found his niche—pardoning the fact that his whole career was based on a lie, of course.

As Shawn rode back to his apartment in the darkness, he didn't see the oncoming truck until it was too late. The motorcycle smashed into the car, and Shawn found himself flying through the air.

When everything settled and the damage had been done, a burly man lifted Shawn's unconscious body and shoved it roughly into the back of the truck, along with the pieces of his motorcycle. The psychic detective was getting too close to the answer, and the man was going to take no chances.

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Lassiter, as usual, was hunched over his computer when Buzz McNabb approached him somewhat hesitantly. "Sir," he began, "We have a break in the case. The Chief wants to speak with you."

"Finally!" Lassiter exclaimed in exasperation. Up until then, not even the annoying faux psychic had found anything on the case. He quickly entered Chief Vick's office, taking a seat next to his partner Juliet.

Chief Vick spoke. "What we have here is a note from the killer himself. It was dropped off on our very doorstep this morning. It reads: _I will not repeat myself. Drop this case or I will drop bodies into the ocean—bodies you may recognize._ We just recently had a boat stolen, so our best guess is that the killer is out on the ocean.

"I will be sending you two on a mission to find this criminal since time is of the essence and you're the best we have."

Lassiter smirked. "So our little 'psychic' ranks under us? Chief, you shouldn't have."

Chief Vick frowned. "Actually, I have been informed by Henry that left Santa Barbara just last night. We have not been able to contact him since."

"Is Shawn okay?" Juliet asked, her worry for Shawn becoming apparent.

Lassiter snorted. "He's _Spencer._ When is that idiot not okay? I've seen him make sarcastic remarks to killers holding guns and laugh it off."

"It seems that he had a fight with Henry, but according to Henry, he will come back eventually," Chief cut in, sending a disapproving glance to her Head Detective. "Anyway, back to the case at hand. As the killer seems to be threatening your family, we can post guards to watch their houses while you are out on the ocean. And time is of the essence. Is that clear?"

Both Juliet and Lassiter nodded.

"Then I'll show you to your boat."

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When Shawn regained consciousness, he felt worse than ever. His head was pounding and his whole body seemed to be bruised. Luckily, no bones felt broken, but the twang in his right ankle suggested a sprain.

 _Where am I?_ Shawn wondered. He tried to stand up, but found himself tied to a chair. Looking around, Shawn saw green everywhere. As his world focused, he made out shapes. Were those…trees? Yes. He was in a forest of some kind—or rather, a jungle.

Shawn watched in horror as it started to rain. Big, fat droplets fell from the trees above, and he could do nothing but sit there in the chair. Who had done this? Shawn tried to think back, but the last he could remember he'd been on his motorcycle…the crash!

Someone had kidnapped him! Hopefully, whoever it was would bring him some food and water. Or a nice, refreshing glass of pineapple juice.

Shawn waited, but no one appeared.

He tried to think of what might have led to him being taken. Probably the police case he'd been working on! "Oh no!" Shawn exclaimed in a raspy voice, "what if I become the next body dumped?"

"You won't need to worry about that for long."

Shawn jumped, knocking the chair on its side. His body slammed into the ground, and the ropes around his wrists and ankles chafed on his skin. The person laughed.

"I've been watching you, Shawn Spencer. The glowing psychic, 100% solve rate, famous, daring, handsome…! I knew sooner or later you'd figure out that I've been murdering all those people, and you would definitely find the bodies! However, if you are mysteriously taken, no one will discover anything about me. I'll be giving the police three days to drop the case. If they keep trying to solve it, when they find the bodies, you'll be among them!"

The guy towered above Shawn, grinning. But his smile was strangely familiar…Shawn thought back to a conversation he'd had with Lassie at the station two days prior…

 _"Spencer! Get out of here! Some of us are trying to work!" Lassie screamed at Shawn, looking more aggravated than usual._

 _Time to back off._

 _"Alright, alright, no need to be an angry porcupine, I'm going—"_

 _Behind Lassiter was the wall of wanted suspects. George Ewell was at the top of the list._

"So, I guess what the spirits tell me will stay between the two of us, George." Shawn had no idea where his confidence came from. _Maybe the spirits,_ he thought ironically.

The large man stopped grinning. "How'd you find that out?" he snarled.

"Well, I would do a demonstration and put my hand up to my head, but unfortunately, someone tied me to a chair! Would you be a gentleman and release me?" Shawn cocked his head, giving his best pleading look.

George Ewell came towards Shawn and picked the chair up, placing all four legs on the ground. _Six,_ Shawn amended, _my legs, too._

"I don't like your smart tongue!" George yelled, spitting on Shawn.

Shawn knew that words would only make George more mad, but he couldn't help himself. "Well, I wouldn't say that my tongue is smart. Take Gus, for instance. His tongue sells pharmaceuticals! And Lassie, well, that's a bad example. But as for Jules—"

Shawn's kidnapper had had enough. George pulled out a gun.

"Don't test my patience," George growled, pointing the gun at Shawn.

 _Oh, no. I obviously have a death wish,_ Shawn thought as he said, "Oh, I don't need to test your patience. My smart, genius tongue tells me that your patience would fail the test, so…"

 _Boom._

Shawn's world went dark as the bullet ripped through his skin.

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So…what do you think?

Please review, whether good or bad! :)

There will be no ships in this story—just friendship! And Gus only appears at the end, so sorry if you want him…

I just love Shawn whump! Expect more soon!

And thanks, katierw80, for the constructive criticism!


	2. Drifting

Luckily, I found some time to update! Yay!

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 **Previously**

 _Shawn's kidnapper had had enough. George pulled out a gun._

 _"Don't test my patience," George growled, pointing the gun at Shawn._

 _Oh, no. I obviously have a death wish, Shawn thought as he said, "Oh, I don't need to test your patience. My smart, genius tongue tells me that your patience would fail the test, so…"_

 _Boom._

 _Shawn's world went dark as the bullet ripped through his skin._

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Lassiter stood beside his partner, wrinkling his nose. " _This_ is the boat we are taking? Wouldn't that be better fit for some crusty old fisherman?"

"Lassiter!" Juliet scolded. "It's the best we can get with the short notice. You should be grateful!"

Lassiter shrugged, but changed the subject anyway. "So, the Chief said the murderer could be anywhere from here to Hawaii. We just have to go out and find him…"

Juliet nodded as she dropped her backpack into the small boat. "I've brought some provisions, just in case. It should keep us going for around three days."

"And beyond that, it's too late."

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Shawn woke up feeling worse than he ever had. His head throbbed and so did his body, but his shoulder—well, his shoulder was on fire.

He looked around to find that he was in the same jungle, tied to the same chair. George was gone. "Probably to go get more bullets," Shawn muttered grimly.

Henry's voice found his way into Shawn's mind. _"How many hats?...Kick out the taillight…Calm your breathing…Use your nails…"_ Wait. The last one briefly registered in Shawn's delirious mind. It was one of the harder lessons his father had taught—how to get out of rope bindings.

Using the skill Shawn never thought he'd need, Shawn began picking at the rope holding his wrists together. Soon his fingers were raw and bloody, but the rope actually fell off!

 _I need to get out of here so I can warn Jules and Lassie. Huh._ Shawn chuckled. _Never thought I'd be excited to see Lassie again._

Reaching down, Shawn spent what seemed like an hour getting his ankles free.

Soon enough, the rope snapped.

Shawn stood up quickly, but everything seemed to be spinning, and the ground came up to meet his face.

Groaning, Shawn tried again. Going slower this time, he managed to get himself upright, using a nearby tree to balance himself.

Trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder from getting shot, Shawn began to stumble away from his chair.

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"We're not making any progress."

Juliet looked over at her partner with tired eyes. "I know. I don't think we'll find anyone."

Lassiter looked down at his compass and GPS device. "We're getting kind of close to Hawaii by now. Soon there will be nowhere left to search. Then we'll have to head back and give Chief the bad news…"

But he never had a chance to finish his sentence. All of a sudden, a great gust of wind churned the seas, and the tiny boat rocked from side to side. Lassiter was thrown into the water, and it was all Julliet could do to keep from joining him.

Luckily, the winds soon calmed. Lassiter, spluttering, was hauled into the boat by Juliet. "Lost the GPS and compass," he managed to get out. Looking around the boat, Juliet assessed the rest of the materials that had stayed aboard.

"Bad news. Only the food and water weren't flung out!" Juliet's voice was raised in fear.

"Maybe we could fish stuff out?" But Lassiter knew that the wind had blown them too far from where the items were dropped.

Trying to quell his panic, Lassiter looked around the boat for anything that would contact others or give him a hint of where he and Juliet were.

But there was nothing.

There would be no escaping the inevitable.

Juliet and Lassiter were sunk.

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Shawn stumbled on through the jungle, sweat dripping down his face and stinging his bullet wound. Every step (especially of his sprained ankle, which was now swollen and inflamed) seemed to be harder than the last, and having to fight his way past vines and over fallen trees pushed Shawn's stamina to the limit.

 _Maybe I'll stop here for a rest._

But Shawn knew that he couldn't, not with an angry kidnapper after him. _I have to find out where I am. I have to get to Santa Barbara._

Finally, just as night had fallen, Shawn reached the edge of the jungle. He saw lights, but everyone seemed to be at home in their beds.

The thought comforted him, and Shawn dropped to the base of a palm tree.

Amidst the sting of his bullet wound, pangs of hunger, throb of his lesser injuries, and cicadas chirping, Shawn fell into a deep sleep.

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The sun was going down. "We'll never make it back to Santa Barbara!" Juliet called out, even though Lassiter was sitting next to her on the floor of the small boat.

"We just have to wait out the night," Lassiter reasoned. "We can't find anything in the dark."

Juliet took in a deep breath. "Alright. Here's what we have left: my backpack, the clothes we're wearing, three sandwiches, some grapes, and four bottles of water."

"Let's ration it," Lassiter reasoned. "We don't know how long it will be before we're found or we find land."

Seeing his partner shiver, Lassiter shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. Juliet's shivers subsided. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

And with that, Juliet and Lassiter each curled up on the floor of their boat.

Juliet let the soft rocking of waves lull her to sleep.

Lassiter stayed awake.

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Shawn knew he needed a hospital. And fast.

With the morning came a whole host of problems.

Shawn couldn't seem to think clearly with all of his injuries, and he was starving and dehydrated.

"I need to turn George in. I need to get to Lassiter." Those words were the only thing that kept him going. Shawn stumbled out of the jungle and looked out at all the houses. He didn't trust a single one.

George may have eyes everywhere.

Instead, Shawn stumbled back into the jungle, where he found a small stream. Bathing away all the blood and drinking took longer than it should have, but Shawn came out feeling refreshed slightly.

To make himself unrecognizable, Shawn stripped down to his undershirt and shorts. The day was hot enough already, so he would blend in better in those clothes. Also, there was all kinds of mud and blood on his shirt and pants from the previous day's hike.

Shawn walked back to the edge of the jungle and looked over his options.

A priority would be getting to Lassie and Juliet. He'd probably need to know where he was first.

Shawn walked past the houses and found that the road gradually turned into sand. He heard a rushing noise—he was on a beach! Walking along parallel to the ocean, Shawn soon came upon a surf shop.

Entering the shop, Shawn smiled at a perky woman behind the cash register.

He couldn't let her know about his situation.

Pretending to look around, Shawn saw a stack of postcards. Perfect!

The top one said _Greetings from Hawaii._

Hawaii.

He'd have to get across the ocean!

Shawn surreptitiously picked up a raft that could be blown up at the pull of a cord. He didn't have any money. It didn't matter. Shawn hid the raft under his shirt and casually strolled out of the store. The clerk noticed nothing.

Stumbling over to the ocean seemed to take forever on his injured ankle.

Finally, Shawn made it. Pulling the cord on the raft, he climbed onto it and quickly pushed himself into deeper water.

A strong current pulled him out to sea, and Shawn drifted farther and farther away from the shore. Soon, Hawaii was out of sight.

Shawn fell asleep.

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Thanks for reading!

Please review—the more reviews, the faster I'll update! :p

Poor Shawn! He'll probably meet up with Lassie and Jules next chapter…

Stay tuned! :)

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED :D


	3. Together

Thanks again for everyone who reviewed! You are the reason this story keeps updating :)

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 **Previously**

 _Shawn surreptitiously picked up a raft that could be blown up at the pull of a cord. He didn't have any money. It didn't matter. Shawn hid the raft under his shirt and casually strolled out of the store. The clerk noticed nothing._

 _Stumbling over to the ocean seemed to take forever on his injured ankle._

 _Finally, Shawn made it. Pulling the cord on the raft, he climbed onto it and quickly pushed himself into deeper water._

 _A strong current pulled him out to sea, and Shawn drifted farther and farther away from the shore. Soon, Hawaii was out of sight._

 _Shawn fell asleep._

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Juliet woke to the soft rocking of the boat. She saw Lassiter sitting at the opposite side, looking up at the sky. He looked horrible.

"There's a storm coming," Lassiter muttered into the waves.

"A storm?" Juliet couldn't believe their bad luck.

Lassiter jerked up at the sound of her voice, and finding her awake, responded, "You can see the clouds rolling in, and the waves are getting higher."

"What should we do?"

"There's nothing we can do." Lassiter sighed. "We can ride out the storm and kiss our chances of catching the criminal good-bye."

Juliet thought about their predicament. It didn't look good.

She promptly vomited over the side of the boat into the churning ocean.

Lassiter never took his eyes from the clouds overhead.

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When Shawn woke up, he was surprised that he wasn't dead.

He certainly felt dead.

The small raft holding him afloat had seemed to get smaller during the night, or at least, more flimsy. There was dried blood caked at the bottom of it, proof that he his bullet wound had not yet healed over.

His bullet wound.

Shawn tried not to think about it, but a curiosity overwhelmed him and he couldn't help but look down and inspect it. Luckily, it seemed to have stopped bleeding. Unluckily, it hurt like hell and stank of puss. It was probably infected.

The rest of his body seemed to be covered in bruises, and his ankle could bear no weight (although, neither could the raft—as Shawn discovered when it flipped over).

Drenched in seawater and shivering, Shawn saw no way he would survive. Finding Santa Barbara seemed to be an impossible feat, and he was way too weak to try.

Shawn's parched throat gave a weak cry as he understood the enormity of the situation: _I am about to die._

Curling up on the bottom of the raft, Shawn didn't see the small boat that was headed in his direction.

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Out on the Pacific Ocean, floating in a little boat with his best (and only) friend, you'd think Carlton Lassiter would be completely at peace. But he had a job to do, a job that had to be done no matter what—which created a slight problem, given the fact that he was lost at sea with a storm approaching.

But someone else was approaching as well. Lassiter rubbed his eyes. Could it be? Yes.

Approaching the boat in a raft was Lassiter's biggest irritation—psychic detective Shawn Spencer.

Lassiter winced. He may not like Spencer, but the man looked to be in terrible condition.

Juliet, thinking quickly, pulled Lassiter's jacket off and threw it across so that it landed on Shawn's raft.

The fake psychic, however, seemed to be sleeping—or was he dead? For a horrible moment, Lassiter thought that was the case, but as the raft drew closer, he saw the intake and outtake of breath.

Still, Spencer was covered in blood, and one of his ankles was swollen up. His erratic breathing and the sweat dripping down his face suggested an infection, and probably a fever as well.

When the raft was close enough, Juliet pulled in alongside the boat. Tears were dripping down her face, but she paid no notice to them. "Shawn? Shawn!" she cried out, but the body in the raft remained motionless.

"Let's try to lift him in with us," Lassiter suggested. "That raft is unsanitary and may attract sharks if any of that blood gets out."

Juliet nodded and tried to compose herself.

Together, the two detectives lifted Spencer's body into the boat with them. "It's cramped enough as it is," Lassiter muttered, but his heart wasn't in it.

At the sound of Lassiter's voice, Spencer stirred.

"La—ssie," he mumbled, each syllable forced out. Shawn cracked his eyes open. "Ju—les. Geor…taken…bo—dies…"

"What is it, Shawn? What are you trying to tell us?"

At Jules' voice, Spencer seemed to fully regain consciousness. He forced himself into a sitting position, wincing at each small movement.

In a dry, raspy voice, Shawn spoke again. "George Ewell…crashed into me…kidnapped me…Hawaii…" He trailed off, blinking slowly.

" _Ewell_ did this to you?" Lassiter asked in disbelief. "We've been after him for years—that's why we're on this boat!—but Spencer manages to find him before us anyway!"

Spencer winced away from his voice, and Lassiter was reminded of the condition the fake psychic was in.

Taking a bottle of water from Juliet's backpack, he opened it carefully and handed it to Spencer, making sure the semi-conscious man had a hold on it. As Spencer slowly took a sip, Lassiter looked over at Juliet grimly.

"We have under an hour until this storm hits. Let's tie ourselves and our supplies to the boat, but make it so that if we are thrown underwater, we can undo any knots."

Juliet nodded and pulled off her shirt, tearing strips of it to make rope. "One of us should hold Shawn," she added. "I don't think he'll survive in his condition without our help. It's actually very lucky he found us before the storm."

"I can keep him alive if necessary. You can take the supplies."

Juliet looked surprised. "I didn't think you cared enough about Shawn."

Uncomfortable, Lassiter shrugged. "He can't die. Not on my watch."

Spencer turned his head over to Lassiter.

Lassiter automatically glared, expecting the fake psychic to say something like, "Oh, Lassie, I didn't know you cared!"

However, Spencer said, "Got…shot…" and fell unconscious.

Lassiter cursed at himself for forgetting how badly injured Spencer was. He looked over at the man, and saw where the blood had come from. Spencer's shoulder.

Juliet leaned over Spencer and tried to take his shirt off, but it was glued to him with blood. "We'll have to leave it for now. After the storm, we can worry more about his wounds."

Lassiter agreed. They had to prioritize. Picking up the half empty water bottle lying next to Spencer, Lassiter screwed the top on and handed it to his partner.

Juliet took it from him and put it inside the backpack. Sighing, she knotted herself to the boat with a strip of her shirt and handed another to Lassiter.

"It's now or never."

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Shawn heard words coming from very far away. "Now…or…never…"

 _Jules,_ he tried to say. But his mouth wouldn't move.

In fact, his body wouldn't move.

He could feel the rocking of the boat and the wind beating around him.

But pretty soon, he felt something else.

A raindrop hit him.

But not just one.

The storm had begun.

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So sorry for another cliffhanger!

Lots of Shawn whump coming up…And Lassie may hear a confession from a delirious fake psychic!

Please review, good or bad!

I will try to update as soon as possible!


	4. Stormed

Two times in one day! Hooray!

(Thanks to Psycho4Life, TheShulesLovinPsyco, and everyone else who reviewed! You are the reason I update :))

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 **Previously**

 _Shawn heard words coming from very far away. "Now…or…never…"_

 _Jules, he tried to say. But his mouth wouldn't move._

 _In fact, his body wouldn't move._

 _He could feel the rocking of the boat and the wind beating around him._

 _But pretty soon, he felt something else._

 _A raindrop hit him._

 _But not just one._

 _The storm had begun._

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Lassiter tensed as the raindrops dropped on his head. _If I just covered myself with my jacket…_

But no. Spencer was covered by that, and he held first priority. However, Lassiter himself was not second priority. He looked over at his partner.

Jules was shivering badly by now, having given up her shirt for rope. She hugged the backpack of supplies like a child hold's his favorite blanket.

"—do this!"

Lassiter jerked out of his trance at the wispy sound of Juliet's voice. He looked over at the female detective. The wind was roaring too heavily to hear her words, but Lassiter read "We can do this if we stay calm," on her lips.

Lassiter nodded but looked down at Spencer. The fake psychic was still unconscious, but occasionally he let out bouts of muttering.

The choppy seas made the ride almost unbearable. Even Lassiter, who often boasted of his strong stomach, had vomited a few times.

A bolt of lightning shot across the sky; and the following rumbles of thunder jolted Spencer awake.

The injured man looked up at Lassiter with confusion apparent in his eyes. At another rumble of thunder, Spencer seemed to understand what was going on.

He began to sit up, and Lassiter's cry of "You'll only injure yourself!" was blown away into the wind. Seeing that the younger man wouldn't get his message, Lassiter helped him up instead.

Spencer smiled slightly at that, and Lassiter could read the "Thank you," on his lips. As lightning once again flashed all around, Lassiter pulled the fake psychic next to him.

After all, Spencer's safety was his main concern. Lassiter doubted that the injured man would last very long if he was thrown into the water.

Spencer tugged on Lassiter's shirt, and the detective looked away from the choppy waters to hear what he had to say. Spencer was shouting, but Lassiter only heard two words.

The two words that would stay with him forever.

"Not…psychic…"

At first, Lassiter would say that he had misheard the message. With the rain pouring down, he could have easily missed important words such as "good."

The look in Spencer's eyes was what convinced him.

For once, the fake psychic was not laughing or joking in any way. His eyes were filled with an intensity Lassiter had not seen before, and it shook him to the bone.

Lassiter was about to respond when he heard a faint cry of "Look out!" Juliet was frantically pointing through the haze of rain.

When it became too late, Lassiter saw it.

A massive wave came upon the three detectives and flipped the boat completely over.

Underneath the water it was silent, but no less in chaos. Lassiter frantically thrashed, effectively undoing Juliet's shirt and freeing him from the boat.

Sputtering, Lassiter reached the surface, but he would not let himself stay above for any more time than the time it took to draw in one breath of air.

All too soon, Lassiter plunged underneath the ocean and forced himself to open his eyes. The saltwater stung, but it was better than letting Spencer die. Yeah, the fake psychic annoyed him, but in the past week, Lassiter found himself missing Spencer and Guster's antics.

Also, Lassiter was a detective. He couldn't allow a civilian to die (as annoying as that civilian may be).

So Lassiter bore the sting in his eyes and held his breath as he dove underneath the upturned boat. There! Spencer's motionless body was sinking right below him!

Quickly going above for another breath, Lassiter heard the rumblings of thunder and felt the sting of rain on his face before he dove underneath again.

Forcing his body deep under the waves, Lassiter reached an arm out and grabbed Spencer. He grabbed hold of the fake psychic's arm and pulled his dead weight up to the surface of the water. Right as Lassiter's lungs began to burn, he popped out of the water and took in a deep breath.

Lassiter pulled Spencer above as well and began to tread water, but he knew that he could not hold them both up for long. "I need to get that boat flipped over," he muttered. With the storm raging all around, Lassiter could not even hear his own voice.

Luckily, Juliet had also made her way to the surface, and was trying to flip the boat over.

Thrusting Spencer over his shoulder, Lassiter swam over to the boat and helped Juliet.

Finally, when Lassiter felt that he could stay above the water no longer, the boat flipped over on the choppy waves.

There was a fair amount of water inside which was not helped by the rain, but Juliet managed to climb inside and use her hands to bail it out while Lassiter hung from the side.

Lassiter heaved Spencer's body up over the side, where Juliet pulled him into the boat. A small layer of water remained, but not enough that it would sink the boat.

Pulling himself up into the boat was one of the hardest things Lassiter had ever done. It was wet and slippery; and the choppy waves rocked the boat from side to side.

Juliet helped Lassiter climb inside, and they both looked over at Spencer. The fake psychic was coughing water up—but at least he was conscious.

"Do you still have the backpack?" Lassiter roared to his partner.

Juliet, in answer, held up the sopping supplies. She smiled, but Lassiter could see that she was shivering.

Juliet turned her attention to Spencer, who was lying on his back and seemed to be okay. The female detective took a new bottle of water out of the pack and gently nudged Spencer. Spencer sipped from the bottle gratefully.

When he finished the bottle, Spencer looked questioningly at the backpack. Lassiter didn't understand, but his partner did.

Juliet produced a sandwich from the bag and, shielding it from the rain as best as she could, handed it to Spencer. It was obvious that the fake psychic was doing all he could not to inhale the whole thing.

A bolt of lightning shot across the sky, jolting Lassiter out of his trance.

The rain was still pelting down, but no one on the boat seemed to mind.

Shawn curled up on the floor of the boat.

Juliet lied across the bench seat with the supplies in her lap.

Lassiter sat against the back of the boat.

Only one of them stayed awake.

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Please, please review! Whether good or bad :)

I'll try to update as soon as possible, but school starts tomorrow….even one review will give me motivation!

The story will begin to wrap up soon, but they haven't reached Santa Barbara yet…


	5. Caught

I cannot give enough thanks to Psycho4Life and everyone else who reviewed!

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 **Previously**

 _The rain was still pelting down, but no one on the boat seemed to mind._

 _Shawn curled up on the floor of the boat._

 _Juliet lied across the bench seat with the supplies in her lap._

 _Lassiter sat against the back of the boat._

 _Only one of them stayed awake._

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Chief Vick was in a state of chaos. "Where are Lassiter and O'Hara?" she asked no one in particular.

The chief had called both of their phones numerous times, and in a fit of desperation, had even contacted the coast guard. Unfortunately, nothing came up that would give her any information on the whereabouts of her two best detectives.

Well. There was the storm forecast.

Chief Vick shook her head. She would not think about that.

Luckily, a distraction arrived: Henry Spencer.

He didn't look any better than Chief felt. Henry had bags under his eyes, and he seemed panicked—there must be a big problem, if the stone-cold Henry Spencer seemed anxious.

Henry rushed right into her office.

"It's Shawn," he said, panting heavily. "He should be back by now!"

Of course the young Spencer was into trouble. Chief Vick did have her doubts, however. "Henry, your son is probably just fine. Do you have any evidence that proves otherwise?"

Henry nodded, his face ashen. "First of all, Shawn didn't tell Gus. He would never leave without at least calling. Second of all…" Henry held up a license plate. "This is Shawn's. I found it on the side of the road. Something bad happened, Karen. What case was he working on last?"

Chief Vick thought back. "We had a killer on the loose, one who had murdered multiple people and left us a threatening message before he fled on a boat in the Pacific Ocean."

"What was the message?"

The chief could remember it as if she were reading the words in front of her. " _I will not repeat myself. Drop this case or I will drop bodies into the ocean—bodies you may recognize._ Strangely enough, the killer targeted none of O'Hara's or Lassiter's families…"

Henry nodded grimly. "Unless the next victim was Shawn."

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George Ewell roared in frustration. "Where did he go?!"

George had gone off, in a fit of kindness, to get the psychic—no, the _thing_ —some food. However, upon returning, George saw that the thing had made a run for it.

In the following days, George scoured the island, occasionally muttering to himself things like "He had a bullet wound—how far could he go?" and "I knew getting him food was a bad idea."

It had only made him more angry to find that none of his henchmen could find the psychic either. "It's like he vanished."

But of course, that was not possible.

What was possible—and much more probable—was the Hawaiian airlines. The psychic must have snuck on and made it to California…somehow.

So George Ewell hopped on the first flight he could, and reached Santa Barbara as quickly as possible.

Knowing that the psychic had a bullet wound, George called in all the hospitals with a fake identity to see if the man was checked into any of them. He wasn't.

Either the psychic had died in some hole, or the police had heard the story and were hiding him somehow. "Meaning that they know who I am!"

George cursed—something he had done more often in the past few days than the time a mole had gotten in on his plans and almost leaked everything to the cops. That was how the detectives even knew his name.

The question was: where would the police think to hide an injured psychic detective?

George smiled.

The answer: the psychic's ex-cop father.

The psychic was as good as dead.

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Shawn opened his eyes, but saw nothing but darkness. Panicking, he opened them again.

Color greeted him, but his world was hazy. Shawn rubbed his eyes and sat up in the boat. For a second, the world spun alarmingly, but he managed not to faint or vomit.

Looking around, Shawn saw that the sun was shining—a big contrast from last night's storm. Juliet was sleeping peacefully, but Lassie was gazing out on the horizon.

"Hey, Lassie," Shawn said; or rather, tried to say, as his throat was too scratchy. He could really go for some water.

The backpack was lying on the floor of the boat, and Shawn reached for it and looked inside. There was one sandwich, a handful of grapes, and two bottles of water.

Shawn spoke up. "Are we rationing this?"

Lassie started, but calmed when he realized it was just Shawn. "You sound terrible."

Shawn felt terrible. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and reality didn't feel like reality. Rather than making a comeback like he normally would, Shawn just nodded.

Lassie seemed to understand, and his whole demeanor changed. "Uh..you can have one of the bottles of water, I guess."

Shawn half-smiled gratefully and drank the whole bottle, trying not to take in too much at a time.

fff

Lassiter looked over at the psychic as he drank. The younger man seemed to be in bad shape—well, why wouldn't he be, with the gunshot wound and swollen ankle! The fake psychic had also lost weight, and his clothes hung off him.

Lassiter really would kill Ewell when he got the chance.

When Spencer finished the water, Lassiter saw how his eyes strayed toward the sandwich. _And what would be the point of rationing if we died?_

Lassiter handed Spencer the last sandwich, and the fake psychic took a deep breath before taking it, as if the simple act of reaching his arm out was too hard. Lassiter looked at the blood caked on Spencer's shirt.

They really needed to reach California.

Soon.

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Chief Vick decided to drive Henry Spencer home. After hearing the message, Henry was in no state to drive.

And anyway, it wasn't like the chief had anything to do.

Pulling up into the driveway, Chief Vick saw movement in the upstairs window. "Is anyone home?" she asked.

Henry looked up at the window. "It could be Shawn," he said doubtfully.

"Let's go check it out." If this was some common burglar, he would soon find himself at gunpoint with the chief of police and an ex-cop.

Henry and Chief Vick quickly got out of the truck, and Chief pulled out her weapon.

It seemed to take ages before they reached the door, and even longer to unlock it. Chief Vick went on ahead, taking the stairs two at a time, while Henry stayed at the base of the stairs to catch the robber if he tried to run past the chief.

When she saw who was inside Henry's house, Chief Vick did not hesitate to fire her weapon.

It was none other than George Ewell.

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As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

I can never have too many :)


	6. Safe

As always, many thanks to Guest, bemyryder, and everyone who gave previous reviews! You are the reason I keep writing :)

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 **Previously**

 _Henry and Chief Vick quickly got out of the truck, and Chief pulled out her weapon._

 _It seemed to take ages before they reached the door, and even longer to unlock it. Chief Vick went on ahead, taking the stairs two at a time, while Henry stayed at the base of the stairs to catch the robber if he tried to run past the chief._

 _When she saw who was inside Henry's house, Chief Vick did not hesitate to fire her weapon._

 _It was none other than George Ewell._

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Spencer was going to die.

Lassiter knew that all three of them were in bad shape, what with the dwindling supplies and no way of getting home, but the fake psychic was a whole other matter.

For the past few hours, the younger man had laid down on the boat, staring up at the sky. He didn't seem to be asleep, but was not necessarily conscious. Judging by Spencer's occasional tremors and his overly pale complexion, he had a fever. And blood loss. Possibly even blood poisoning.

Lassiter sighed.

He had been trying to avoid the matter the whole morning. As the day grew longer, Lassiter grew worried. _Santa Barbara better be close._

Juliet, luckily, didn't have any injuries from the storm, but the relentless sun was giving her a bad sunburn.

Lassiter could find no injuries on himself, although he was a tad thirsty and pretty hungry.

Where was Santa Barbara?

There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and Lassiter saw that Spencer was trying to stand up. It didn't work (obviously), but the fake psychic managed to sit up. "Gus! Let's stop for pineapple smoothies! Oh, don't be a rusty nail, you know you want one!"

Juliet looked over at Lassiter, her desperation mirroring his. "Shawn," she tried to get his fevered attention. "Gus isn't here!"

Spencer, however, did not hear her and continued with his delirious rant. "I have a vision, Chief! It's that I'm not psychic! Let's celebrate with Gus!"

Lassiter knew they had to snap the fake psychic out of it. "Spencer," he growled. "You are on a boat with Juliet and me. Gus is not here. Gus is not here."

Spencer cocked his head. His eyes narrowed. Just as Lassiter could see clarity in Spencer's eyes, the young man fell onto the floor of the boat with a loud thunk.

"Get better, Spencer," Lassiter muttered.

"Hey," Juliet said. "That was a really nice thing you did for Shawn. Thank you."

"Well, it's not like I can let him die," Lassiter explained uncomfortably.

Juliet smiled. "Still—"

"LAND!" Spencer interrupted.

At first, Lassiter thought the fake psychic was crazy—Spencer's eyes weren't even open!—but then he saw the speck in the distance.

Home.

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"So you admit to all the murders and the kidnapping of Shawn Spencer?" Chief Vick asked the man sitting across from her in the interrogation room.

"Yup! Every last one!" George Ewell laughed. He had a manic glint in his eyes.

Henry, who was watching from the outside, could not take the suspense. He barged into the room, ignoring the disapproval emanating from the chief. "WHERE'S MY SON?" Henry yelled, glaring at Ewell.

The murderer only laughed again. "That little weasel escaped from me in Hawaii. Your guess is as good as mine!"

So Shawn was free somewhere. He was alive.

Ewell continued. "He didn't escape before I shot him!"

Henry had been pushed past his limit. The ex-cop lunged at Ewell and was about to _hurt_ him—make him _feel_ Shawn's pain—but Chief Vick's radio went off. "We found Lassiter, O'Hara, and Spencer."

Just as quickly as he had come in, Henry bolted out the door.

Chief Vick followed.

Buzz McNabb took care of Ewell.

fff

Chief Vick drove Henry Spencer to the hospital in a cop car. When the boat carrying the three detectives had been found, an emergency ambulance had immediately drove them all to the nearest hospital.

There was traffic on the way there, but the cop car cleared it pretty well.

When they reached the hospital, neither Chief Vick nor Henry hesitated to jump out and find the detectives.

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Lassiter and Juliet were talking when Chief Vick and Henry burst into the hospital room. Unfortunately, Spencer had gone immediately into surgery, so he didn't get to see his relieved dad and employer.

Lassiter briefed them both on what had happened to him and his partner, and Juliet explained what information Spencer had given them.

Right when they finished, a doctor came in to update them on Spencer's condition.

"He will survive."

The room seemed to be bathed in relief.

"Shawn Spencer has an infected gunshot wound, a sprained ankle, a raging fever, a mild concussion, and numerous bruises all over his body. He also had a small case of dehydration and anemia. However, his surgery went as planned, so we have the bullet, and his antibiotics seem to be working. Mr. Spencer will be moved to this room, and he will most likely wake in a couple of hours."

A nurse wheeled Spencer into the room.

He was hooked up to all sorts of machines, but seemed to be doing much better than on the boat. How Spencer had known where land was had to be anyone's guess. _After all,_ Lassiter thought smugly. _He himself admitted to not being psychic._

fff

Henry and the chief refused to leave until Shawn woke up, so Lassiter and Juliet were caught up on the status of George Ewell.

When Lassiter heard about how Ewell's shot arm still had to heal, the detective couldn't seem to stop smiling.

At exactly 4:30, the fake psychic regained consciousness.

Shawn opened his eyes and looked around the room. "Where am I?" The last he could remember was being on the boat.

Lassiter spoke first. "You're in the hospital. We managed to drift straight to California."

Shawn thought about it. It made sense. But there was something else. Ewell. He was probably looking for Shawn—where would he be? _He must have found out that I left Hawaii. I'll bet he's in California, looking for me._ Shawn raised a hand to his head. "I have a vision! George Ewell is in California!"

Chief Vick raised her eyebrows, amused. The psychic never failed to astound her. "That is correct, Mr. Spencer. In fact, we have him in custody and he admitted to the murders."

Shawn smiled.

Lassiter cleared his throat. "Well, Shawn, I…um…I'm glad you survived."

The fake psychic's answer was a testament to how much better he felt. "Oh, Lassie, I didn't know you cared!"

Juliet looked between them, smiling. To Lassiter, she asked. "Since when did you call Shawn 'Shawn'?"

Luckily, Lassiter was spared an answer by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" called Shawn.

And in rushed Gus.

"Oh my gosh, Shawn! Are you all right?" Gus was panicked at the sight of Shawn.

Shawn laughed. "I'm fine. You know me!"

Gus held out a questioning fist bump, and Shawn easily returned it.

"Now who's up for pineapple smoothies?"

Everyone groaned.

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THE END!

Please, please tell me what you think of the ending!

And review if you want me to write any other Psych fics!

Also, check out my other stories if you like Harry Potter :)


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